Make You Purr
by FlirtyFlapper
Summary: Otabek has found that when Yuri is pleased he makes a little sound that is similar to a purr. He is determined to find ways to bring forth that sound and keep Russia's rink fairy by his side.
1. Chapter 1

To be frank, its a miracle that it has taken me this long to write a YOI fanfiction. I've been obsessing for far too long. It was bound to happen at some point. To be honest, I'm more surprised that it wasn't Victuuri first!

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Otabek found joy in many things. He rarely allowed it to show on his face but that was simply his nature. He enjoyed straddling his motorcycle and going on long rides to clear his mind, a strong cup of coffee, the occasional cigarette and much more. But lately, his joy was finding new ways to elicit reactions from a certain Russian skater. He had every intention of maintaining his friendship and distance to Yuri Plisetsky... at first. Of course he had admired the blond. He would have to be deaf, blind and stupid not to. Yuri had the kind of allure that haunted a person. His eyes were sharp and held a fire that could set fire to seas, a body that was made for seduction, and a psyche that begged to be delved into. On the ice, Yuri was captivating. Off the ice, he was fascinating. Otabek was drawn to his boisterous exclamations and emotional freedom, his hot and cold demeanor, the poorly concealed moments of tenderness he tried to write off. Otabek had to get to know him more.

But the more he got to knew the Rink Prima, the more he found himself wanting more. Friendship hardly described what he felt. It barely scratched the surface. After months of video chats and the occasional meet ups, he couldn't stay away. Otabek switched home rinks to Russia. The rigorous training was worth it for the moments he got to share with Yuri. Standing side by side at the rink filled him with warmth. Watching Yuri practice everyday became his favorite pass time. The evenings they shared dinner with Yuri's grandfather put all his worries to rest.

The thing that brought him the most joy though was finding ways to elicit a happy little rumbling hum from the Russian. Beka mentally referred to it as a pur. It was only admitted in moments of great satisfaction. And Otabek was determined to find all the ways possible to elicit that lovely sound.

The first time it had happened, the Kazakhastany had been utterly shocked. They had been sitting on the couch in his little apartment watching a wildlife documentary. It was a kind of tender moment that Yuri had finally become comfortable allowing. Yuri had his legs in Otabek's lap and was dozing off while the narrator droned on about tree frogs. Beka was really more focused on the steady breathing of the younger man beside him. Yuri stretched slightly and grumbled softly. Aware of the discomfort that was building in his calves after a long day on the ice, Otabek slowly placed a hand on Yuri's ankle. Carefully, he drew his hand up the back of his calf and began to kneed gently. Yuri had hummed and let his eyes close. Taking that as an okay, he began to massage with a bit more force. Yuri's back arched and he purred. The movement and sound had surprised him so greatly, he stopped.

Yuri's eyes opened slightly. In a sleepy slur he asked, "Beka, why'd you stop? 'feels good."

The urge to pounce was quelled with great effort. He continued to massage the calf until his hands were nearly numb and switched to the other. By the time he was done, the Russian was asleep and he had finally regained enough self control to carry Yuri to his bed. He took it upon himself to sleep on the couch. Yuri had insisted they share the bed on the multiple occasions he had stayed over before. Otabek didn't trust himself that much and he was hardly a masochist. The couch was easily becoming far too familiar.

The second time he may have been trying. He wouldn't admit it aloud. It was ring side, half way through Yuri's practive. Yakov was in a mood and pushing extra hard. The prima was catching his breath by the wing. Otabek was warmed up and waiting to begin. He skated over to Yuri and leaned against the edge by the stretched out blond. Yuri looked over at him, his brow furrowed and heavy with sweat. He looked exhausted. His face said it all. He was exhausted and pissed off. He had been doing better about trying to keep his temper in check in the rink. Still, Otabek could tell he was about to blow.

"Yura," he said softly before reaching a hand out, the tip of his index and middle finger resting under the Russian's pale chin. His head tipped softly to the side; a silent query.

Yuri's eyes softened. His lower lip began to protrude. Beka's heart melted. A pouty little kitten before him, too tired to fight anymore. His fingers slipped into the sweat damp hair behind his ear. His finger gently caressed the hair at the nape of his neck, his thumb stroking the skin just in front of his ear. Yuri's eyes grew heavy and his head lulled into Otabek's hand.

"You need to rest. Call it a day."

"I can do one more run..." The protest weak and soft.

Otabek scoffed and allowed his thumb to graze the lobe of Yuri's ear. Yuri's breath hitched. Without thinking, his fingers clenched into the silk like hairs and the dull edges of his nails scrapped against scalp. Yuri's body pressed closer and the happy little sound erupted again. His cheeks were slightly flushed and it had nothing to do with exertion. Beka used his grip to bring their faces closer, just enough to let his breath fan across the younger man's face.

"Yura." It was no longer a request. His voice was firm and low. He didn't have time to would hardly make it through another run of his routine, especially with Yakov around and he needed to practice himself.

Yuri's eyes opened slowly. He looked up at Otabek for a long moment before nodding and skated away. Otabek watched him go. His eyes most definitely did not linger on his arse. Not at all. Yakov was yelling in the distance but Otabek went to the center of rink, a silent signal that he was going to begin whether their coach was ready or not.

There was nothing surprising the next time he managed to provoke the sound. He knew exactly what he was doing. He figured that the best way to get the results that he wanted was to simply allow himself to do the things he had longed to do, the things he had resisted for years. He had suppressed his urges for too long. Yuri had quickly become comfortable enough in their friendship to allow for small touches and sweet gestures. That had been enough for Otabek...for awhile. He was shocked by his own greed. He realized quickly after moving to Russia that he was extremely possessive of Yuri's reactions. When Yuri raged, it wasn't too bad. But when he smiled at Mila or laughed at something on instagram, he was filled jealousy. The worst was his irritation when Yuri got calls from Victor. He was would pout and roll his eyes, growl and shout but there was a fond smile on his face. Despite his protests, Yuri had a soft spot for his choreographer and his husband. He wanted to take his phone away and kiss the younger skater until he was breathless and weak-kneed.

That was motivated him the next time. Yuri had come over for dinner. Nothing unusual in that. Yuri had been ten minutes late and come right in. Otabek had given him a key once he started staying the night. Yuri had bit back a smile and looked away, holding out his hand expectantly, waiting for Otabek to drop the key in his hand. Beka had added a keychain with an angry looking tiger on it that he caught Yuri occasionally fiddling with.

He was in the kitchen when Yuri called that he had arrived. Otabek didn't bother with a reply. It was rare for Otabek to bother with greetings. Yuri came into the kitchen and stretched onto his toes to look over the older man's shoulder. He hummed and walked into the living room. Beka could still feel the heat on his back where Yuri's hand had been. He rolled his shoulders a couple times. He heard the television's volume rise. He assumed Yuri was sprawled out on the couch, checking social media and paying mild attention to whatever he had on the tv. He took his time finishing dinner, allowing Yuri time to unwind after a long day at the rink.

As he was finishing up their meal, he realized that the sound of the television was muffled. He could only pick up every couple of words. Then he heard Yuri scoff. He was immediately on edge. He knew immediately that the blond was on the phone with Victor or Yuuri. A familiar feeling filled his chest. Damn. His jaw locked unconsciously. He dished up their food, giving Yuri perhaps a little extra.

He walked into the room and had to fight to keep his brow from furrowing. Yuri was biting back a smile, resting on the couch on his stomach. Otabek placed his guest's food on the table and lowered himself in the armchair. Yuri immediately raised his eyebrows and stared. Beka almost always sat next to him. He continued to half-heartedly listen to Victor as he sat up, an invitation for Otabek to sit next to him. The Kazakh ignored him. Instead, he turned his attention to the television. He needed to tune out the conversation; for Yuri's sake. He was ashamed of the nagging feeling in his chest. If he had some claim on the Russian, it may be different. But as it was, he worried that his emotional response would scare Yuri away.

"Beka," Yuri said softly, pulling his attention from the tv.

The first thing he noticed was that Yuri's phone was sitting on the couch, face down. Yuri seemed both worried and hopeful. His brow was furrowed and his lower lip may have been sticking out a bit. He was pouting. He couldn't resist. Otabek rose from his chair and sat on the couch. Yuri didn't look any happier. His brow furrowed more.

Yuri responded with a growled, "Otabek."

Fighting a smile, Otabek reached over and looped and arm around Yuri's slender shoulders. He pulled him, causing Yuri's head to rest on his chest. Yuri gave a grunt as he re-situated himself to lean more comfortably. His legs curled up on the couch and his head nestled further into Otabek's chest, his hand coming up to rest lightly on below his chin. Beka couldn't hold back the happy rumble that went through him.

They settled in like that for some time. Yuri at some point grabbed his phone and snapped a picture for instagram causing Otabek to laugh and ruffle the blond locks before him. Yuri hissed and growled and complained. That was when Otabek decided to make an attempt to hear _that_ sound once again. He threaded his fingers into the silky hair and began to use them to comb through it. Yuri quieted and settled in closer. Dissatisfied with the lack of response, his finger trailed lower towards the nape of Yuri's neck. His finger snagged in the locks there causing him to tug slightly. Yuri purred and his back arched, his head tipping back into the sensation.

Beka looked down, watching his reaction. The blond was blushing and biting his lip to hide his embarrassment. Still, he didn't pull away.

"You're hair is getting long."

Yuri turned, laying on his back. His head slid down and rested in Beka's lap. He looked at Beka for a moment and then away.

"I should get it cut," he said sullenly, fingers coming up to play with the ends of hair.

"Don't." His hand reached out, his thumb brushing against Yuri's face, brushing a few stray hairs away and trailing through them. "You look lovely."

Yuri's mouth was parted just a touch and his eyes were wide while his cheeks flushed. Beka continued to run his hands through his hair. He was overwhelmed by the tenderness of the moment and Yuri's soft responses. His eyes wouldn't meet Otabek's but it didn't bother him. He knew how uncomfortable Yuri could get when it came to affection.

"I suppose I could let it grow out..." Yuri looked back at him, his hand coming up to ruffle the dark hair on the top of Otabek's head, "You should grow yours out too. I want to braid it."

He couldn't fight it. He smiled brightly down at Yuri and breathed out a small laugh, "I'll consider it."

There was something soft in Yuri's face after that that gave Beka hope. Maybe, just maybe, Yuri could come to feel the way felt. At the very least, accept it if he were to confess. Yuri rolled over onto his side after that, head resting on strong legs, his hand laying gently on Beka's knee while the Kazakh idly played his hair. Yuri fell asleep that way. Beka carried him to bed before depositing himself on the couch for another night of restless sleep.

Two weeks passed before he saw Yuri again. He had gone back to Kazakhstan to see his family. He hadn't thought to tell Yuri as he had only planned to be gone a few days. The trip had lengthened at his mother's request. He assumed Yuri had messaged him but he hadn't bothered to check. It was so rare to spend time with his family. Even when he had lived with them he had spent more time in the rink or traveling than at home. Even in his youth he had spent a great deal of time training in Russia. He was grateful for his parents endless support which is why he stayed longer than he should.

Still, as he approached the door to his apartment in St. Petersburg he realized how much he had missed being home. He missed Yuri. He missed their routine. He missed knowing that, at the end of the day, Yuri was in his bed. In some small way, that comforted him. Even if he never enjoyed it with him. The cab ride home had dragged on. He was jet lagged, hungry and in need of a shower. He'd settle for a nap and a protein bar. He fished into the pocket of his leather jacket for his keys. Not finding them there, he sighed. He dug around in the other pocket before reaching into his jeans.

When he unlocked the door, he was surprised to find the lights on. He cursed. He was sure he had shut them all off before leaving. His electric bill was going to be ridiculous. He dropped his keys on the kitchen counter before locking the door behind him. There was a sense of relief in being home. Especially when he found little remnants of Yuri around. A tiger mug by the coffee machine, the cat plushy on the couch, the varied candles that Yuri insisted on lighting because he liked the ambient light; they all gave his home a touch of life. He kept a minimalist apartment. He hadn't actually had a television until Yuri complained about having nothing to do. He had acted incredibly offended when Otabek directed him to the overstocked book shelf. The tv was up two days later.

He left his bag by the armchair and threw his coat onto the couch. He flicked the lights off as he shuffled towards his bedroom. The lights were already off and he didn't need them to see where he was going. He practically ripped off his shirt in his haste to get into bed. Exhaustion was quickly winning out. He shucked his jeans off quickly. His phone was dead. He would charge it in the morning. He had to message Yakov that he was home and call Yuri. He was sure to get an earful but he didn't mind. Hearing Yuri's voice, knowing that Yuri was focused solely on him, was worth it. He crawled into bed and welcomed sleep.

Waking up early wasn't unusual for Otabek. He had always been an early riser. What was unusual however, was the blond hair in front of his face and the warm body pressed against his side. He was overwhelmed with the smell of lavender and mint; Yuri's shampoo. His body went rigid. Yuri had been here last night. Yuri had been in his bed last night...with him. He was spooning Yuri Plisetsky right now. The warmth that filled his heart was soon cooled by the reality of Yuri's predicted reaction if he realized the position they were in. Otabek took a moment to memorize the feeling of the younger man in his arms before pulling away slowly. He shut the door lightly behind him and went into the bathroom.

He stared in the mirror for what seemed like hours. He stared in hopes of finding the patience to pull away before he made Yuri hate him. It had taken a year for Yuri to call him Beka, only after Viktor had tested it out. Yuri had hissed out insults, something along the lines of "You don't get to call him that, you old bastard! You're not even friends." A week later Yuri had said it hesitantly, waiting for him to respond. The feeling that filled him was overwhelming. He, of course, smiled in return and answered his question. He had decided ages ago to be slow with Yuri. While he was letting himself be more open with his desires, if he got greedy, the chances of Yuri fleeing were too high for Otabek's liking.

He shook his head and removed his boxers. He stepped into the shower and let the water run over him. Yuri wouldn't be up for hours. He was rarely up before 10 unless Otabek woke him up. He took his time in the shower, relieving himself to images of Yuri. When he was done he wrapped a towel around his hips and went into the kitchen. He was in the process of making a pot of coffee when he heard the bedroom door open. He looked over his shoulder to see a groggy Yuri staring at him. Yuri was wearing his shirt and a pair of his sweatpants. He swallowed thickly. Was he trying to kill him? The shirt hung off his shoulder, exposing a delicious bit of skin.

"Morning," he said thickly.

He expected yelling. He wasn't at all expecting hurried steps in his direction or for pale arms to wrap around his waist. He felt Yuri press his forehead into the damp skin of his back. Yuri squeezed him and he felt his heart squeeze. He had to be dreaming. Yuri rarely initiated contact. And when he did it was usually a fist to the shoulder or feet in his lap.

"Don't ever disappear again." It was probably meant to be biting but it was spoken in Russian and sounded gentle.

He placed his hands on top of Yuri's and squeezed gently. With some difficulty due to the tightness of Yuri's hold, he turned in the arms around him. He placed a hand on the back of the blond's head. He rested his chin on the top of his head. Yuri had been so proud of the two inches he had grown, but Otabek had also grown and remained the taller of the two.

He spoke softly, not wanting to destroy this moment, "sorry."

Yuri pulled him tighter. He hummed softly into blond hair before wrapping his arms around Yuri. How long had he dreamed of a moment like this? Too long. Yuri pulled back and looked up at him with soft green eyes. He looked like he was trying to confirm he was actually there. Otabek felt the corners of his mouth twitch with a smile. His arms tightened around the man in his arms. He ruffled his hair. Yuri frowned and his brows drew in to form his usual scowl. He pulled away a second later. He punched Otabek in the chest with a little too much force causing him to let out a sharp "oof".

"You're an asshole."

Ah, there it was. Yuri seemed more alert now. He padded away towards the bathroom. Otabek smiled to himself before pulling things out of the fridge to make breakfast. He didn't see Yuri exit the bathroom and collect his phone. He was busy cooking when Yuri snapped a photo. He was oblivious; too happy with how the morning had gone to take notice. He was plating there food when he decided to speak.

"Yura?"

He didn't look up from his phone, "hm?"

"Coffee?"

"Mmm."

Beka poured them both a cup of coffee. They ate in silence. Yuri was checking social media as he ate while Otabek watched him. Yuri cleared their plates before Beka could. There was something in the air that encouraged the Kazakh to do whatever his heart desired. He walked up behind Yuri. He hoped that the risk was worth the reward. Standing behind Yuri as he rinsed their dishes, he let his hand come up to the ends of Yuri's hair, just between his shoulder blades. He spoke in a low voice, positioning his head just right to let his breath fan against the shell of Yuri's ear.

"Yura, you're hair is a mess."

Yuri startled and jumped causing him to push back into Otabek's bare chest. Beka's hands came to his hips to steady him. Yuri gasped. He looked over his shoulder and up at the taller man with wide eyes. Beka relished the sight of the soft flush beginning to spread over the highest points of the blonds face. His mouth flapped a moment as he tried to find his words. It wasn't unusual for Otabek to see this side of him. In fact, he thought he was the only one who got to see this reaction.

"I, uhm, I haven't brushed it yet," he said softly.

Beka hummed softly in his ear. The rumble of his chest made Yuri shiver. "Let me."

Yuri gave a couple soft nods and Beka gave him a small smile. Yuri had a tendency to be much softer behind closed doors. He rarely yelled or cursed in Otabek's apartment unless he was on the phone with Victor and Yuuri or he was pissed off at Yakov. Even then, Otabek could usually calm him with a hand on the shoulder or a firm "Yura." Otabek chalked this specific response to his unexlpained absence. He pulled away from Yuri slowly, letting his fingers drag against his hips. He walked towards the bedroom to plug his phone in and put on some pants while Yuri went to get the brush from the bathroom.

When he came out, Yuri was sitting cross legged on the floor in front of the couch. Otabek sat behind him quietly with a leg on either side. He began brushing the long blond locks from the end up. Yuri hummed softly. Otabek had to bite back a laugh. Yuri tended to just rip the brush through his hair. For someone who spent way too much money on hair products, he didn't bother with it once it was clean.

Beka noticed the hair tie on the table and got an idea. Once he had worked through all the tangles, he began to weave the hair together. Yuri's head began to lull back. He placed his hand on the back of the slender neck and applied gentle pressure. He heard the sharp intake of breath. "Yura, stay still." Yuri purred and his hips wriggled. He squeezed a little harder. "Yura," he growled.

"Can't help it. It feels good," he mumbled in Russian.

Otabek had never been so grateful for his youth spent in Yuri's home country. He let his thumb slide up the line of Yuri's neck slowly.

"Just a bit longer. It's almost done. Be good."

Yuri whined low in his throat and Beka went back to work. The braiding took little time actually. He simply worked slower as time went on to tease the younger man. When he was done he flipped the braid over Yuri's shoulder and leaned down to speak in his once more, in Russian this time. "There. All done." Yuri turned his head and their faces were extremely close. Yuri's face flushed and he stood up quickly.

"Thanks or whatever," he said loudly before rushing to the bedroom. Otabek laughed when he heard the door slam. That had been better than expected. He had seen lovely reactions and had found a new way to make Yuri purr.

They fell back into their routine after that. Although Yuri seemed a bit different. He would flush when Otabek sat close and he rarely met his eyes when he put his feet in his lap after a long day. After breakfast each morning he would hand Otabek the brush and sit between his legs. When he moved too much, Beka would place a firm hand on the back of his neck and squeeze. Each time he purred quietly and sat straighter. Occasionally his hips would wriggle a bit. It was enough for awhile.

But Otabek began to get greedy again. He had to find another way to evoke that sound.

When it happened again, Otabek felt more shame than pleasure. He had a long day at the rink, he hadn't landed a single jump and his muscles were sore. Yuri had stayed every night since the Kazakh had returned which meant that Otabek had taken the couch every night since the first. He had gotten a call from his choreographer saying that his free program still wasn't ready and wouldn't be for some time which meant he wouldn't have the time he wanted to perfect it before competitions began. Then a text from his sister came saying that she wanted to visit. When he got home he just wanted to read and go to sleep. Instead he found Yuri on the phone with his doting "parents". He was laughing at something and the sound crawled under his skin. It was rare for him to hear Yuri laugh in his apartment.

He dropped his stuff in the bedroom and walked into the kitchen. Yuri was walking around the living room while he talked. He seemed to be in a fantastic mood. Otabek would usually be pleased to see him like this. However, after the day he had... he sighed heavily. He gripped the edge of the sink tightly, trying to focus. Yuri came in and grabbed an apple off the counter. When he finally noticed Beka he held the phone out.

"Beka, say hello. Yuuri's been nagging me about talking to you since you never respond to his texts." He shook the phone impatiently.

"Not now," he growled.

"Come on, Otabek. Don't be a prick. You just have to say hi for fuck's sake." His tone wasn't as harsh as it could have been but being pressed right now wasn't the best idea.

He turned around and back Yuri into the counter. His brow was furrowed over tired eyes. He had an arm on either side of the blond, pinning him to the counter.

"Yuri," his tone was dark and low, "I'm not in the fucking mood."

He wasn't sure if he was speaking in Russian or English or his native tongue but he knew it came out bitter and harsh. He watched Yuri's eyes go wide and his adam's apple bob as he swallowed. He grabbed the phone out of Yuri's hand and hung up before sitting it on the counter with too much force. He stepped away and hated himself immediately. He went to the balcony. It was rarely used. He only went out there to smoke and on nicer days read.

He grabbed a cigarette from the pack in his jacket and went outside, shutting the glass door behind him firmly. He felt like an ass. He had never talked to Yuri that way, never really talked to anyone that way. His jealousy was becoming a problem. The stress of the day had only added to that. He needed to apologize. The problem was that his skin was still crawling and he was seething. He heard the door slide open and shut.

He wasn't expecting the arms that slid around him or the hands on his chest. Through his jacket he could feel Yuri rubbing his head against his back. Like a kitten trying to apologize and seeking attention. He sighed heavily and took a long drag from his cigarette. His lungs were filled with smoke when Yuri spoke.

"I'm sorry. I could tell you were stressed... I thought talking to Katsudon might help."

He expelled the smoke and wrapped his free hand around Yuri's. "I shouldn't have spoken to you like that."

"I've never seen you so..." he trailed off and rubbed his face more firmly into the strong back before him.

"Never again." He promised to Yuri and himself.

"Beka," he said softly.

He didn't look at him.

"Beka," he whined.

He turned slightly, keeping his hand on top of Yuri's. Yuri was looking up at him and biting his lower lip. He looked positively perfect and Otabek felt shame wash over him again. He still couldn't believe he'd snapped like that. On Yuri of all people! He tried to think of ways to make it up to him, of some way to redeem himself. He knew his expression wasn't something Yuri should see. The shame and remorse was clearly written there.

"Braid my hair?" Yuri asked softly.

He didn't know what he had done to deserve this beautiful creature in his life. He raised the hand in his and pressed a soft kiss of gratitude to the knuckles, earning him a tiny purr.

"Of course."

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I had to stop here and upload. Next chapter will have all the good stuff we look for in fanfiction... lots of sex and tender moments. Maybe some Yuri POV?

Thanks for reading! Follow for the next chapter and drop a review! Hope you enjoyed!


	2. Chapter 2

I've had this written for about a month but things have been crazy. I decided against sexy times in this chapter. Gonna build it up a bit more before getting to the good stuff!

Read. Rate. Review. Be jolly and enjoy bran flakes with almond milk.

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Beka felt awful.

He was avoiding Yuri. After he lashed out at Yuri, he couldn't bear the guilt. Every time he looked at Yuri he could only see the shocked face he had made. When Yuri left the next morning, Beka had told him he would be busy for awhile. Yuri looked worried and asked him to text him when he should come over. After a week he began to receive texts asking about coming over, saying he wouldn't stay long. They began to get more frequent, asking if he was okay and where he was. His guilt built with every message.

He went out of his way to keep his mind off his actions. He changed his rink time so that they never met. He had never been fond of running before but now it was how he spent all his free time. If he didn't exhaust himself, he couldn't sleep. His bed still smelled like Yuri. He had put away all the little reminders, trying to ease his mind. It hadn't helped. He wandered around in a daze. Practice went as usual. It was one of the few times he could focus on something else. Yakov praised his technique but told him that he was boring to watch.

"You have no emotion. You're boring. No one will care when you make your jumps if you can't keep their attention," he growled in Russian before making him skate for an extra hour.

He was tired. He wasn't sleeping but more than anything, he was tired of trying to stay away from Yuri. He had given in to his greed to much, allowed himself too much freedom and progressed too quickly. He had let himself indulge. He needed to withdraw and accept that friendship was all Yuri could handle right now. Perhaps even, all he could handle right now. He sighed. He was just leaving the rink and it was late. He couldn't go home again knowing that it would be another empty night. He withdrew his phone from his jacket and texted Yuri a simple "Come over tomorrow".

When he got home he showered and smoked on the balcony. When he got inside he checked his phone. Yuri had texted back.

"I'm coming over now."

Otabek panicked silently. He dragged his hands over his face and through his hair. He could do this. They would fall back into their routine but he would minimize their contact. He would digress back to their original friendship. He went to his room to put on a shirt as he hadn't put one on after his shower. With Yuri out of this house for awhile he had no need to wear jeans to cover up... any _arising_ problems that may occur. He should really change out of his joggers but it hardly seemed worth the effort. The risk of getting an erection was rather small if he resisted physical contact.

He pulled on a t-shirt, not noticing that it was the one Yuri had gotten him; white with a tiger on it. He went back outside to smoke another cigarette. He always smoked a little too much when he was stressed or thinking. He was outside on his third cigarette when Yuri came in. He looked tired too. His hair was in a messy bun on top of his head and his grey jeans were wrinkled. His hoodie was the only thing that didn't look rumpled. He had kicked his sneakers off at the door as usual, something he picked up in Japan.

He dropped on the couch and crossed his arms. Otabek finished his cigarette. He took a deep breath before going inside. Yuri stared at him. He sat on the opposite end of the couch, far away to avoid touching. He could smell Yuri from here. It smelled like home. Damn, he had missed him. Even mussed up and looking like he had just rolled out of bed, he was a vision of perfection.

"You look like shit."

Nice first greeting, Otabek thought immediately. He was a little grateful for the consistent attitude that Yuri presented. He could tell he had fucked up by the way Yuri had said it. It wasn't soft or joking. He reached for the remote and turned the tv on. He didn't want to admit he felt like shit, which is exactly what he would have done if he had responded. He didn't bother to change the channel. He leaned back and stretched his arm across the back of the couch. He crossed his legs and focused on the movie; some black and white romance.

Yuri got up and shut the living room light off. There was soft light coming in from the front hall. When Yuri sat on the couch again he was much closer. Otabek had to breathe through his mouth. Yuri had no idea what this was doing to him, the mental turmoil he was thrown into. He wanted to pull him close. He wanted to wrap his arms around his shoulders and bury his face in pale locks. Yuri's neck was incredibly close to his hand. His fingers flexed against the back of the couch.

He had confidence that he could do this; be with Yuri without being with Yuri. He had no choice. He had to regain his self-control or risk losing Yuri forever. Prior to his outburst, he would have pulled the blond into his body and let his hand rest on his shoulder. Instead, he was trying to focus on the movie. It wasn't working. The light from the screen cast alluring shadows on the planes of Yuri's face. He felt the coil of anxiety that had filled him slowly ebb. He was just happy to have the love of his life back in his life, in his home.

"You're staring," Yuri mumbled.

Otabek immediately stiffened. Fuck... he thought he had been discreet. He looked away slowly. He felt anxiety build within him again. Maybe he couldn't do this... Perhaps he had crossed the line and there was no going back. He withdrew his arm from the back of the couch. He needed air but it was probably too soon to be smoking again without worrying Yuri. He tried to make himself as small as possible and tucked himself into the corner of the couch. Yuri looked over at him, brow furrowed once more.

"What the hell is going on with you?" he hissed out.

Beka remained silent. He was tempted to say "nothing" but he knew it would just further Yuri's anger.

"Beka... please. You're being weird." Yuri's voice sounded strained.

Otabek looked to him and his heart clenched. Yuri's eyes were watery and he looked incredibly uncomfortable. He had never meant for this to happen! Yuri's happiness and comfort took priority in his life. He felt the weight of his outburst once more, the shame for his greed when it came to the blond, the monopolistic desires that drove him to hurt the surprisingly soft male in front of him.

"I... I'm sorry."

Yuri's temper flared. "For what!? For disappearing again, even though I asked you not to? For pulling away from me without telling me why? For driving me crazy with worry? What in the fuck are you sorry for!"

"I shouted," he said simply.

Yuri paused. He looked confused and then understanding was written on his face. He let out a short sharp laugh that was filled with disbelief before he began laughing in earnest. He scooted closer to Otabek and placed a hand on top of a clenched fist. The Kazakh watched him. His cheeks were flushed and he was staring at their hands.

"You don't have to be sorry about that. It was was kind of nice," he fumbled, "ya know, seeing you really angry. It was... intense." His voice was especially soft on the last word.

"I shouldn't have spoken to you like that." Beka barely got out. He wanted to growl and tell Yuri that he should never allow anyone to speak to him like that.

"If it were anyone else, I'd be pissed. But I was pushing you even though I could tell you were tired and agitated. I, uhmm, I kind of liked it."

Beka's brow rose.

"I just mean, I never get to see you like that!" He rushed out, cheeks burning red.

Otabek knew he shouldn't have, but his hand came up to touch a firey cheek. Yuri had forgiven him. He felt like he could soar now that the weight on his chest was lifted. He stroked Yuri's cheek before he pulled him into a firm hug. His arms wrapped around him tenderly. He practically pulled the blond into his lap. He breathed in his scent, felt the weight of him against his chest. He sighed in relief.

"You're too good," he said softly into his hair.

"You're the only one who thinks that," Yuri said playfully in a soft voice.

Beka shook his head and spoke in a low voice, hoping Yuri wouldn't hear him, "You're too good." For me was unspoken.

He pulled away and caressed Yuri's face with his thumbs and before he could stop himself, he was pulling his head down and pressing a kiss into pale locks. Yuri's eyes were wide and his face was about ten times darker when Otabek let him go. Green eyes looked away but he pressed himself into Beka's side and curled into him. They focused on the movie then.

Yuri fell asleep, as usual. Beka carried him to bed, tucked him in and kissed his own fingertips before pressing them to the sleeping man's forehead. He went back to the couch and got the best night of sleep he had in weeks.

It took a month before Otabek finally relaxed in Yuri's company again. Visits to the apartment had been spaced out the first 2 weeks but he was back to being over almost every day. He had refused 3 invitations to dinner with Yuri's grandfather and was about to refuse another. However, he hadn't anticipated how difficult it would be to do it in person versus via text.

They stood rink side. Beka had just finished a grueling but successful session with their coach and Yuri had only just arrived. He was beautiful as ever with his long blond locks pulled away from his face in a haphazard ponytail. He was wearing one of Beka's hoodies. The sight sent a wave of warmth through the older skater. They had been in a casual discussion about how routines were going until Yuri brought it up.

"Beka, Grandpa wants you to come to dinner tonight," Yuri said excitedly.

"No, thank you."

Yuri frowned. "Why not?"

"I'll stop and get something before I go home."

"Anything my grandfather makes is going to be so much better than anything you can buy!" Yuri said defensively.

He couldn't disagree. Anything Mr. Plisetsky made would be leaps and bounds better than anything he would get elsewhere. Still, he couldn't face seeing him at the moment. Beka was still trying to find new balance in their relationship. He had reigned in a lot of his behavior. There were no more long glances, he kept his hair ruffling to a minimum and he had altogether stopped trying to make Yuri purr. His hands twitched constantly with the desire to touch the blond but he knew himself. If he gave an inch, he would take a mile.

Otabek's reactions to the younger skater were like nothing he had ever experienced. He had always practiced moderation. He kept his cool. Until he met Yuri. He was the one thing Beka wanted to possess completely, the one thing that made him lose control. And it was effortless. Yuri had no idea what he was capable of doing to Otabek with a simple smile or eye roll in his direction. And while he tried not to show it outwardly, he was not made of steel. He knew his face softened when Yuri was by his side. He knew his eyes betrayed everything he felt. Which was exactly why he didn't want to have dinner with Yuri and his grandfather.

Yuri stepped closer to Otabek. His green eyes shining up at him as he pleaded, "Beka, please, for me?"

He looked up. He stared directly in to the light above them desperately trying to burn the image on Yuri begging out of his mind. Could he do it? Could he pretend that he wasn't ardently in love with his best friend in front of the most important person in Yuri's life? He looked down again. Yuri's face was openly hopeful. If he could be that open with him, then surely Beka could contain himself for endure dinner. For him.

He nodded silently. Suddenly, there were arms wrapped around his neck and Yuri was all around him.

"Thank you!"Yuri pulled back but his hands remained clasped behind the Kazakh's neck. "He'll be so glad to hear it. He's been pestering me for weeks. I think he's still worried... ya know, because you...disappeared for awhile," he trailed off.

And there it was, the familiar settling of shame and regret in his chest. He couldn't speak. He couldn't apologize again without confessing. He let his head fall and rested his forehead against Yuri's. He hoped his eyes conveyed a thousand apologies that he couldn't utter for his sake and for Yuri's. He didn't know what was worse, the way he had snapped at his best friend or the fact that he had pulled away. Either way, he was sure he had hurt Yuri. And knowing the blond, he turned to the person he trusted most; his grandfather.

When he finally spoke, his voice was tight, "It won't happen again."

And it wouldn't. He couldn't be away from Yuri like that ever again. He had been in absolute agony. He honestly couldn't remember how he had lived before Yuri had come into his life. Every day he got to see the eyes that had haunted him for years. Every day he was filled with contentment simply by having Yuri in his life. As long as Yuri would have him, Otabek would be there.

"Good. Because if you even try, I'll kick your ass," Yuri said with a cheeky grin.

Beka smiled back and laughed, his nose brushing against Yuri's, causing a small purr to emit. He closed his dark eyes and treasured the sound. It would probably be the last one he would ever get. He didn't see the heat in green eyes at the sound of his laughter, didn't see the flush in pale cheeks at the contact. He wasn't aware that his hands had gripped Yuri's hips until he pulled away.

Yuri looked away and began fiddling with the zipper of his hoodie. "I'll, uhm, I'm going to call Grandpa and let him know. Tonight?"

He hummed his approval and Yuri started to walk away to make the call. He stopped and whipped around, causing his ponytail to swish.

"You better not back out!" He shouted.

"Wouldn't dream of it," He called out softly.

Yuri's chest puffed up and he walked away with something like pep in his step. Beka fell for him all over again.

"I'm screwed," he said to himself before walking to the locker room for a very cold shower.

* * *

Beka's got a bit of a struggle going on but Yuri's POV next chapter.

Thank's so much for reading! Sorry for the delay.


	3. Chapter 3

I wrote this chapter in a boat, on 45 minutes of sleep and came home to type it with a 5 month old puppy in my lap. I can't complain about how it turned out.

Read. Rate. Review. Be jolly and enjoy almond snickers and coke zero.

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To say agreeing to dinner was a mistake would be an understatement.

He struggled to refuse Yuri anything, even if it meant putting himself through hell. Which he imagined is what this dinner would be. He liked Nikolai a lot. In fact, he greatly enjoyed their dinners. He was however totally aware that Yuri had turned to his grandfather about his sudden avoidance. He didn't quite know how to face that.

After staying briefly to watch Yuri warm up, Beka had gone home prepare. He needed a long, hot shower to clear his mind. Not just for dinner. Her really needed to stop watching Yuri skate. It might be the most dangerous temptation yet. The passion with which Yuri skated was the same passion that had caused Beka to fall cosmically in love to begin with. It was impossible not to love Yuri when he was determined. And determination was the largest contributing factor of the ice fairy's art. The fire in those green eyes could fill hell three fold.

Yes. A very long shower was needed. It would be hours before Yuri was done with practice. He might as well run first. It might exhaust himself to the point of exhaustion and he could excuse himself immediately after the meal. Though he usually stayed for a cup of coffee and some light conversation, he would reign himself in. He found himself more in love with Yuri when they had the opportunity to share domestic moments. He tended to hold on to them and reminisce over his morning coffee. Definitely best to leave early.

The run had gone faster than usual. He had managed to best his time which was somewhat satisfying. The route was familiar; Yuri had shown it to him and they had run it together too many times to count. It was becoming incredibly apparent and inescapable that his little Russian had inserted himself firmly into ever crevice of his life. There were small reminders of him everywhere. Beka took solace in them. If he couldn't have Yuri, he would collect a thousand little pieces of him. He could live happily with that.

His shower was brief and the heat did wonders for the tension in his shoulders. At least, it had until he remembered the time Yuri had massaged them after a long day. He could still vividly remember the way his delicate fingers had dug into his skin. It was one of those domestic moments Beka had saved for his morning coffee. A delusion in preparation for a day of self-control.

He had been swiping through Instagram when Yuri finally messaged him. He was done with practice and that was Otabek's cue. He was meant to be Yuri's ride home today. He quickly threw on his jacket and his favorite scarf, a green knit gifted to him by Yuri on his first visit to Russia. He snagged his keys and only hoped Yuri had thought to grab a jacket today. Damn kid almost never wore one around him.

"I grew up here! It's not that cold. You're just not used to yet," he would frequently quip before Beka threw his own jacket at it. It was hardly a convincing excuse when it came from a slip of a man.

When he arrived at the rink a few minutes later, Yuri was leaning against a post, on his phone as usual. He looked up at the familiar sound of Otabek's motorcycle. He smiled and leaned down to pick up his bag. Beka was holding Yuri's helmet and frowning at the blond.

"What?" Yuri asked upon approach.

"I thought we agreed that hoodies were not sufficient for warmth," he grumbled.

Yuri looked down at himself and rolled his eyes. He brushed off the comment and grabbed his helmet from Beka's waiting hands. He put it on with a flourish. It still sent shivers through the Kazakh. When Yuri was behind him and his arms were securely around Beka's solid core they sped off.

Yuri secretly loved the speed though he nagged at Otabek for not abiding the rules. He never said as much but Beka knew. Beka always just knew. He knew at a glance when Yuri wanted the last dumpling when they went to visit Victor and Yuuri. He knew Yuri was struggling with his choreography when he bit the inside of his cheek. He knew when he had a headache or was hiding a cold from the smallest crease between his brows. He knew when he was lonely because Yuri would post more on his social media. He had made it his objective to understand everything about the blond. And he thought he did a damn good job of it to date.

When they arrived at the Plisetsky home, Yuri practically bound inside. Beka had to take a moment. He stared at the door and took a deep breath. It was just a short dinner. He could do this. He saw the curtains shift to the side and Nikolai stood in the window. He waved Beka inside. When he finally entered the house he was overwhelmed with the smell of food. He was welcomed with a hug and a sharp clap on the back by the old man.

"I should smack you for making him worry so."

"Grandpa!" Yuri fumed with red cheeks.

"He's not wrong. I deserve it," Beka muttered as he shed his jacket and scarf.

"Oh, so you do have some sense. I was beginning to wonder," Nikolai said before walking into the kitchen.

"Ignore him," Yuri said crossing his arms over his chest.

"Plisetsky's are impossible to ignore," Beka said with a wry smile.

"Tell him that... I told him to be nice." Yuri muttered to himself.

Dinner itself was uneventful. If you didn't count the unwavering stare of one Nikolai Plisetsky. Beka was sure the man knew he was in love with Yuri. He dealt with it as best as he was able. His neutral expression came in handy at times like these. Luckily, the exhaustion was setting in and he struggled to conceal a few yawns. He helped Yuri clear the table and wash the dishes. Yuri pulled out three mugs for coffee but Beka shook his head.

"You're not staying?" Surprise was evident in his voice. It was unusual.

"It's been a long day and I have an early start tomorrow," he explained lamely.

Yuri frowned but nodded. He put the mug back and busied himself with making the coffee. Beka excused himself to say his good-byes to Nikolai. He found the old man sitting in a large chair that had seen better days.

"I'll be taking my leave. Thank you for dinner. It was, as always, wonderful."

"You're always welcome to join us, Otabek. Yuratchka is quite fond you. I can't say he's alone in his feelings."

It was not the first time Nikolai had alluded to the fact that he enjoyed Otabek's company. Beka flushed none the less. He had once said Beka had become something of a second grandson to him and that it was good to see him making friends. Perhaps that was one of the reasons why Beka feared ruining their relationship. He didn't want to destroy the precious friendship Yuri had finally found or disappoint Nikolai.

"He's slow, but he isn't stupid. He'll figure it out one of these days. God knows you can't hide it for shit."

Beka looked at the man in shock. So he was right. Nikolai knew. He gave a solemn nod and hummed in agreement. He knew it was true. But he wanted to hold on to the illusion a little longer. He was doing his best to control his feelings. He kept himself at a distance. A few minor slip ups but he was doing his best. He wouldn't kill the friendship that Yuri had finally found. It was too precious. He knew that.

"He's been known to rise to the occasion. You don't have to be so careful. He may not be aware of it, but I'll be damned if he doesn't feel the same."

Beka didn't know how to reply so he simply thanked him again. He was met by Yuri in the hall. The blond waited for Beka to don his jacket and scarf. There was a smile gleam in his eyes when he watched Otabek wrap the scarf around his neck. He followed the elder outside. Beka grumbled the whole walk about him not wearing a jacket. Again.

"It's not cold yet!"

"Cold enough. Wear a damn jacket, Yura," he said with finality.

He heard a muffled gasp of a purr from Yuri. He couldn't figure out what had caused it. It made him happy anyway.

"Don't stay away for so long next time. Grandpa missed you." His cheeks were red and his hands were in his pockets.

"Of course." He ruffled Yuri's hair. "Jacket," he reminded before he rode off with a small smile.

Maybe Nikolai was right. Perhaps he didn't have to be so very careful. After all, Yuri was the only person who let him indulge in his selfish urges. Including bossing him around. Perhaps he could indulge. Just a bit... enough to stave off misery. Until Yuri realized how he felt. Yuri may even let him stay by his side despite his feelings.

Dinner was indeed a mistake. He now felt like he had a chance.

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Thanks for reading! I'm hopefully getting my writing mojo back and can keep updating. I have a bunch of other stories that need some love so keep an eye out.


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